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Post by SMP on Feb 27, 2007 7:00:48 GMT -5
[...At the Betty Ford Clinic, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is standing in the center of a group of people, they surround him in a circle. They all sit in metal folding chairs. Dr. Plants has the floor...]
SMP: Hello, my name is Silaconne M. Plants, I'm a physician and a professional wrestler...
[several people laugh under their breath]
SMP: ....and I'm an alcoholic.
[Morton Downey Jr. lends over to Tara Reid]
MDJ: He's STILL drunk! Did you hear what he called himself?
SMP: I knew it was time to get off the sauce when the other night, I got so hammered that I imagined some of my enemies wished to bury the hatchet with me and form a temporary alliance, I saw visions of ghosts, and my arch rival... a man never known to make any sense at all, became the voice of reason to a wayward young wrestler and set him on a path with focus.
Todd Bridges: I thought you had to be clean to check in. What's this guy talking about?
SMP: WHATCHOO TALKIN' 'BOUT, WILLIS?
Moderator: Dr. Plants, please continue...
SMP: Oh, I'm done. After seeing all that stuff, I knew it was time to quit being a lush.
Moderator: You may have a seat then...
[Dr. Plants sits beside a woman holding an umbrella with a freshly shaved head.]
Woman: Pssst. I'm breaking out at sun down. Ya with me?
SMP: Yep...
[Fade out...]
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Post by SMP again on Feb 27, 2007 7:16:22 GMT -5
[Later that night, the umbrella with a freshly shaved head sneaks out and gets a wig to disguise itself, because I'm a dumbass...]
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Post by SMP yet again on Feb 27, 2007 9:03:14 GMT -5
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CircularAnswer
Jobber To The Stars
Yep. I'm hot. That's me, pretty much.
Posts: 154
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Post by CircularAnswer on Feb 27, 2007 21:48:21 GMT -5
*As the car breaks away, various people move into position, coordinated by the red-gloved hands over a conference call. Throughout the escape, the message is revealed.*
Painted on an overpass: THE OFFER STILL STANDS
On a t-shirt in a nightclub Plants and company visit: STOP AXL VAN HALEN
On a sandwich board, worn by a crazy bum who may or may not be John Cena: JOIN FORCES AND PURGE BOB
On a Corvette on blocks, with Mr. Paradox sitting on the hood: AID US BEFORE AXL MAKES OUT WITH SGT. GENOCIDE AGAIN
On a sign carried by Dr. Thrilla: FNORD FNORD FNORD
*Okay, the last one's not part of the plan.*
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CircularAnswer
Jobber To The Stars
Yep. I'm hot. That's me, pretty much.
Posts: 154
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Post by CircularAnswer on Mar 3, 2007 12:28:17 GMT -5
*The sound of aggravated metal clanging fills the air, along with the shouts (apparently from Sir Zeno) of "Get over it!", before finally Dr. Thrilla (dressed in a black suit) and Cecil step in front of the camera.*
Dr. Thrilla: *upset metal clanging*
Cecil: Just do it, Doctor.
Dr. Thrilla: *sigh, downcast metal clanging*
Cecil: The doctor states that he would like to apologize for his actions towards Dr. Silaconne M. Plants at Dimension Z: The Gathering.
Dr. Thrilla: *explanitory metal clanging*
Cecil: At the time, Dr. Plants was not on the active roster, and thus burying him would not interfere with the actions of the "main storyline". As such, the booker for DZ: TG felt it appropriate to pit the two against each other.
Dr. Thrilla: *embarassed metal clanging*
Cecil: It was Dr. Thrilla's first official match, and he got carried away. Any pain and suffering Dr. Plants underwent was the result of overexuberance.
Dr. Thrilla: *sad metal clanging*
Cecil: The doctor again apologizes, and hopes that this will settle the issue.
*The two leave, Cecil's voice coming off-camera and saying, "So where do they keep the danishes?"*
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Post by the stoned shooter on Mar 4, 2007 18:07:24 GMT -5
douja: you know what i could live wit'out.. watchin' dat ugly ass cracka' talk about all da stuff smp said wrong.. what da fuck is dat all about? dat is why you just ain't as good as da stoned shooter.. i speak for myself, baby!! douja aint got noone puttin' words in his motha' fuckin' mouth!!
(Yes you do.)
douja: wha-, WHO SAID DAT, YO'...
(It was me, Adam. We probably should have met before. I have been typing everything you say for the last ten years or so. See, actually, you are not talking. I am actually typing your dialogue and posting it on a message board. And noone is actually "watching" your promo's. They are in reality "read" by a the few people who still view this site.)
douja: bullshit.. prove it...
(No problem.)
douja: i love to be fucked in da ass, yo!
(See?)
douja: what... da... fuck... yo', my whole world has been turned upside down... help me out, will ya'??
(No problem, old friend. No problem.)
(douja pulls out a large blunt of the finest cheeba and lights it. He takes a long drag and slowly exhales.)
douja: thanks, yo.. daddy needed his medicine..
(Fade out.)
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Post by The Doc on Mar 5, 2007 10:28:19 GMT -5
[The screen is black. Slowly, it fades in to a blurry, distorted image of Nurse Heidi with altered audio to make her voice sound like it's being played at half speed. Still later, it clears to a a non blurried, undistorted imaged, normal sounding Nurse Heidi....]
NH: Sil? Dr. Plants? Wake up...
[Plants grunts and rubs his eyes]
NH: DOCTOR Plants? Can you hear me?
SMP: Huh?
NH: I think you experience an episode of syncope. You vasovagalled or something...
SMP: Blah...
NH: Get up. It looks like you may have urinated in your pants...
SMP: Whut?
NH: You pissed yourself after you passed out....
SMP: *farts*
NH: Can you get up? How's your BP been? Have you checked your cholesterol lately? How about your glucose? Do you want me to get some nitroglycerine just in case? Are you experiencing any numbness in your left arm, squeezing in your chest? Do you have ANY pain? If so, on a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst pain you've ever experienced in your life.... what do you rate it?
SMP: I'm fine...
[He struggles to his feet and straightens himself, oblivious to the stain on the front of his trousers.]
SMP: I was watching the Rant Zone and saw a promo with Dr. Thrilla and his translator sidekick, Cecil. The room started spinning... and then I saw a flash of light and all of a sudden I was sitting on a cloud with the STWF InterGalactic title and smoking reefer with Kurt Angel and John Wayne, Chris Farley and Ronald Reagan were doing jello shots, and Hitler was signing "Baby Got Back".
NH: OoOoOOOOOooooo-kay... do I need to check your temperature?
SMP: He apologized to me. He ACTUALLY did it. All is forgiven, right after he gets me another 1986 Ford Pinto.
NH: You know, I think you owe Dr. Thrilla an apology, too. I remember a little thing you pulled with Steve, douja, and Billy not so long ago involving him and Mr. Paradox.
SMP: HA! That was GREAT, right?
NH: Doc...
SMP: Oh, OKAY! Dr. Thrilla, it is true that the Thomas J. Foolery we concoted at Grudge Match a Go-Go was in direct retaliation for the stunt you orchestrated at The Gathering.
I have done so many rotten things in this business that when my soon to be released DVD comes out, the no-brainer title is, "Dr. Silaconne M. Plants-Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap."
It has nothing to do with AC/DC, but everything to do with my wrestling income.
NH: You're stalling....
SMP: I'm getting to it!
[Dr. Plants composes himself.]
SMP: As I was saying, I have commited so many dispicable acts that I can't even begin to count them all, and I haven't felt remorse for any of them. I haven't apologized for a single thing, either.
BUT, as far as I'm concerned... we're even. It takes a helluva man to do what you did. And I'm here to show you that I'M a helluva man. Not to mention, the single greatest wrestler on the planet.
NH: *checks watch*
SMP: So...... I'm sooooor. I'm sorororororo. I'm suuuuur.
NH: Oh my God, who are you? Arthur Fonzerelli?
SMP: I apolololololo. I ahhhhhh-pol-OH.... jizz.
NH: Jesus Christ! Just do it!
SMP: I'm soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. RE. THERE! I did it! Got any mouthwash?
NH: You're pathetic.
SMP: [shrugs] WHAT?
NH: That was so lame...
SMP: Hey, it counts in horse shoes and hand grenades...
NH: No, that's "close". Not lame....
SMP: Whatever. You say tah-MAY-toe, I say toe-MAH-toe. Can we get on with this?
NH: Well, it's your ball and your court....
SMP: *ahem* I see that Axl Van Hoggin' the message board has been, shall we say, silent as of late. I'll assume that the jobber fed he picks jobbers from to job to him has had its jobbers refuse continuing to lay down for him and job to his jobber jobbing ass.
You say I'm a wrinkled old prune, and told me to kiss your ass...
Well, I think the general consensus is that you're an unimaginative bastard that has nothing to say unless you're singing a stupid song, involving yourself in boorish banter with your pinhead girlfriend, or squashing enhancement talent to enhance a talent that doesn't exist.
At Living in Sin, I'm putting my money on Dr. Thrilla if you two are fortunate enough to make it the finals.
Of course, that one will take place some time before the first intermission... because we ALL know what the main event is.
NH: TNA final?
SMP: Yeah, right...
NH: I'll put MY[/u] money on it...
SMP: Sounds to me like you need to put your money on about a thousand gallons of Massengil.
NH: WHAT?!
SMP: douja said it, not me...
NH: He said what?
SMP: Basically, that your vagina's so big it carries a stench normal amounts of hygiene and a regular routine of douche can't hope to quell.
NH: OOOOOOOOH! I HATE HIM!
SMP: What did Miggs say to you? Multiple Miggs in the next cell. He... hissed at you. What did he say?
NH: That's not funny.
SMP: What did he say? Play along, "Clarice".
NH: He said, "I can smell your cunt."
SMP: [sniffing the air] I however, cannot. Not most of the time anyway...
NH: Now I hate YOU! [storms off]
SMP: Hey, it was a joke! I was just messing around!
Oh well...
DOUJA! This is it, you stupid little lawn jockey! I've seen that you've been hitting the radio stations and trying to put yourself over as the next big thing in the STWF when it folded. Fact is... you're right:
Word got out that you were going to have a year run with the I.G. title and the place went bankrupt.
So then you came to Brawler's on Budget, and the rest as they say, is history.
The only reason you excelled here was nobody in the biz that wasn't a title whore could care less about winning BOB titles.
NH: [from offscreen] YOU'RE A TITLE WHORE! TALK ABOUT THAT POT AND KETTLE...
SMP: Ummm.... as I was saying. BOB Titles mean nothing. And since you've won all of them you're the Champion of Nothing.
The only reason, and I mean the ONLY reason I even want the BOB Legend Title is because it means so much to YOU.
And prove once again, that you can't beat me. Ever. Anywhere. Anytime. When it counts.
After the night you screwed up the greatest swerve in the history of swerves when we stuck it to Thrilla and Paradox at Go-Go, it's still taken another year to get to this point.
And now it's finally here. It's within my grasp.
And I'm going to beat your dookie crusted ass until I get tired of beating it.
Moving Bus Matches? You're 0-1. I'm 0-0. Rickety Easel Matches? I'm 1-0. You're 0-1. Nicolas Cage Matches? I'm 1-0. You're 0-0.
Add it all up and it's SMP 2-0. douja 0-2.
Do the math. Well, nevermind.... I did it for you.
Shine that title up, boy. It's mine. Oh yes... it's mine.
NH: [from offscreen] THAT'S REAL CONVINCING WHEN YOU'RE STANDING THERE WITH PISS STAINS ON YOUR PANTS!
SMP: *looks down* Dammit, man!
[Quick fade out]
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